Death bit me (it hurt)
by Latenightsgunfights
Summary: After a violent 'outburst', the Listener is sent to kill Cicero.


He was grinning.

Pained and manic, hard and uncanny. He was grinning so much that the crimson river flowing from either nostril was dribbling through the gaps in his teeth, yellowish white dribbling and merging to a color red as his hair.

He knows why I'm here. He's trying to scare me.

Looking past the attempt at intimidation, I noticed the pale hand gripping his ribs, blood flowing through the fingers, other hand trembling as it held the hilt of his dagger, breaths laboured but ready. I stepped forward. He flinched.

"You're here to kill Cicero, yes? Here to murder him?" The last 'r' sound was long and drawn out, his chest heaving as he broke off into weak coughs. "Cicero? A traitor? That's madness. It is she that is traitorous. Traitorous to the ways of the Brotherhood, to the ways of the Night Mother!"

I drew my blade, trying to keep my hand steady enough to end it quick, ignoring the angered whispers of a ghostly Lucien hovering about my back, blade ready to defend but voice ultimately unsure.

Our Dread Father does not wish this, Angela, the Keeper is a sacred position in the Brotherhood.

"Astrid wishes it, he broke the tenants, he hurt Veezara."

Lucien hummed, choosing not to voice his opinion, simply looking away, a silent spectre.

Wrongly killing those you'd call family is something both Cicero and I understand greatly, Listener, I advise you to consider your actions wisely.

He disappeared in a puddle of blue liquid and dust.

Stupid ghost.

Cicero slipped from his awkward sitting position against the wall, landing hard on his side, yelling at the impact of his ribs and bony hip on the stone. The ebony dagger flying across the room with the fall. He was still staring at me, giggling, shoulders trembling with the agony that no doubt laced through his body, eyes wide and head twitching maniacally. "Listener, Angela, don't kill Cicero."

He wasn't begging, wasn't even looking at me. Cicero just stared ahead, tired and broken, a man who'd given everything and received nothing.

I couldn't do it.

I dropped to my knees in front of Cicero, rummaging through my backpack for healing potions and bandages, throwing them down next to him. I reached over, palms up, trying to convey to the mentally ill man that I intended to help him. His eyes were on me again, a nervous, pained, quiet giggle escaping as he loosened the grip clutching his side, revealing a deep, bloody wound from the harsh grip of Arnbjorns wolf jaw on his ribs. Blood was flowing, thick and sickly, across pale skin. The blood a river, the gash a mouth, wide and open like a gate in a fence, flexing muscles and tendons underneath. It trailed around in a flat oval shape, bloody indentations revealing the nature of the animal that did it, Ciceros heaving breath loosening torn skin from bond a raising bloody flaps of cartilage from his body.

I hesitated, before pressing both hands down hard onto the deepest area of the wound. Cicero squealed, body convulsing in white hot agony, red hair falling about his face in tendrils like the blood through my fingers. I managed to slow the bleeding enough to stuff cloth and bandages over the wound, tying them tightly around his middle. Cicero screamed, crying out before breaking into a fit of giggles, personalities fighting for dominance of his mind, eyes wide and bloodshot and surrounded by grey. I pressed a healing potion to his lips, slipping my hand behind his head and lifting. "Drink."

He obeyed, swallowing the thick liquid with little trouble, signalling weakly for breath with a bloody hand before going back to drinking. I pulled his head onto my lap after he finished, wiping the blood from his nostrils with my sleeve. "Listener-"

"Hush, rest for now I'll watch over you while you sleep. We'll figure out what to do when you awaken."

The ingredients in the potion were making him sleepy, bronze eyes glassy and wandering as he mumbled incoherently. I ran my fingers through his hair, sighing, waiting for his eyes to slip into a half lidded dose before stretching my legs out, determined to sit with him before I returned to the Sanctuary.

"I'll tell Astrid I killed you," I decided, "'ll lie and tell her I strangled you with your own intestines, that you bled like a pig, that justice was served and you Sanctuary is safe once again."

I didn't want to lie to Astrid, but I couldn't kill the Keeper. His pained eyes and forced laugh would haunt me to the end of my days, another addition to the ever growing collection of voices in my head.

I kissed him on the forehead. Foolish man.

I gripped his hair, throwing my head back, eyes rolling and a moan escaping my lips.

Ciceros tongue was skilled. He pleasured me in long lapping strokes, moisture glistening on his lips and nose as I screamed out my climax, his body moving up to lay on his side next to mine, long hair covering the pillow. I kissed him, running my fingers down his back, tracing curves until I found the ridged edged of the pink scar that dominated his side, the only evidence of the horrific injury.

He noticed me tracing it, giggling playfully. "Cicero is glad you spared him," his voice turned serious momentarily, "I love you."

I kissed him passionately, skin on skin, before rolling over, the man's lithe weight comfortable on top of me.

And I you, my Fool of Hearts.


End file.
